While the questions and answers were going on, we had all been strolling quietly back through the plantation.  As soon as we reached the house the first object that we saw in front of it was Sir Percival’s dog-cart, with the horse put to and the groom waiting by it in his stable-jacket.  If these unexpected appearances were to be trusted, the examination of the house-keeper had produced important results already.

“A fine horse, my friend,” said the Count, addressing the groom with the most engaging familiarity of manner, “You are going to drive out?”

“I am not going, sir,” replied the man, looking at his stable-jacket, and evidently wondering whether the foreign gentleman took it for his livery.  “My master drives himself.”

“Aha!” said the Count, “does he indeed?  I wonder he gives himself the trouble when he has got you to drive for him.  Is he going to fatigue that nice, shining, pretty horse by taking him very far to-day?”

“I don’t know, sir,” answered the man.  “The horse is a mare, if you please, sir.  She’s the highest-couraged thing we’ve got in the stables.  Her name’s Brown Molly, sir, and she’ll go till she drops.  Sir Percival usually takes Isaac of York for the short distances.”

“And your shining courageous Brown Molly for the long?”

“Logical inference, Miss Halcombe,” continued the Count, wheeling round briskly, and addressing me.  “Sir Percival is going a long distance to-day.”

I made no reply.  I had my own inferences to draw, from what I knew through the housekeeper and from what I saw before me, and I did not choose to share them with Count Fosco.

When Sir Percival was in Cumberland (I thought to myself), he walked away a long distance, on Anne’s account, to question the family at Todd’s Corner.  Now he is in Hampshire, is he going to drive away a long distance, on Anne’s account again, to question Mrs. Catherick at Welmingham?

We all entered the house.  As we crossed the hall Sir Percival came out from the library to meet us.  He looked hurried and pale and anxious—­but for all that, he was in his most polite mood when he spoke to us.

“I am sorry to say I am obliged to leave you,” he began—­“a long drive—­a matter that I can’t very well put off.  I shall be back in good time to-morrow—­but before I go I should like that little business-formality, which I spoke of this morning, to be settled.  Laura, will you come into the library?  It won’t take a minute—­a mere formality.  Countess, may I trouble you also?  I want you and the Countess, Fosco, to be witnesses to a signature—­nothing more.  Come in at once and get it over.”

He held the library door open until they had passed in, followed them, and shut it softly.

I remained, for a moment afterwards, standing alone in the hall, with my heart beating fast and my mind misgiving me sadly.  Then I went on to the staircase, and ascended slowly to my own room.